Page 124 of Sombra
I get a shiver, and it’s not from the cold.
This is part of Spain here in America. Or it’s a part of myself here in my hometown.
This is what I like. Real food. Made with love.
I take apicture of the storefront and post it on my Instagram.
And I can’t help but caption it, “I wish you could see this.”
I vow to come back when they’re open.
Continuing farther down the street, I get to a diner smelling delectably of bacon. This place has been here forever, and I know the owners. It’s not fancy, but they’re nice and have great food so they always get a good crowd.I haven’t had an American breakfast in months, so I go in and get a table.
Before I went to Spain, I’d never eat by myself in public because I’d be scared that people would say I was weird. Now? I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. I’m hungry.
Testing my stomach, I wait a moment to see if I can handle it, but I think I can. I’m feeling better. Physically, anyway.
Mentally or emotionally, not so much.
As I wait, I type out an email to Maggie, telling her I’m home and want to talk to her. I order pancakes and bacon and coffee and watch the other diners. When it comes, the coffee tastes weak and watery, not like the thick, Spanish coffee at all. In almost no time, the waitress delivers my pancakes. I pile on butter and maple syrup—haven’t had that ina long time—and I take a hesitant bite.
It tastes delicious, and I’m feeling okay. For the first time since I found out I’m pregnant, I relax. And in that moment, a surge of sadness comes up, because there’s one thing I know for sure.
I miss Tavo.
The same way that I needed the space from Iowa to see that my relationship with Shane wasnotworking, I needed the space fromSpain to see that my relationship with Tavowasworking.
Working really well. All except for a few parts.
Running through the events of the past week and a half, I see him. His generous smile. His comforting, sexy body. His joy when he found out I was pregnant. His intensity when he told me he loved me.
I never told him I loved him.
And I do, I really do.
Howbad of a mistake did I make? Because I’m certain I made one. I’m just not sure which mistake I made.
Was I wrong to fall for Tavo?
Or was I wrong to leave him?
When I get back home,my parents are at the breakfast table drinking coffee. Well, my dad is drinkingcoffee and my mother is drinking some sort of fake tea with superfruits and the blood of angels.
This is the scene I’ve experienced every day of my entire life. Nice. Normal.
It’s not enough for me. I want more. I want to wake up in a place of my choosing. I want to cook and eat food that has a connection to the place I live. I want a lover who understands me.
I want to bewith Tavo.
Dad looks up. “Pumpkin! Where have you been?”
He jolts me out of my thoughts, but it’s slow. “Spain,” I answer dully. “Or you mean, getting breakfast? Sorry, I’m all jet-lagged.” I sit down at the table with them.
He reaches over and pats the back of my hand. “I get it. You need to take some time for yourself, I’m sure.” Always the psychiatrist. Always examiningme. “And that was a surprise last night about Shane. How did that affect you?”
“I fully support him,” I say. “I think deep down I knew it, and it took him being brave and telling me for me to realize it.”
Dad nods. “That’s often the way it happens. Self-realization occurs when you’re ready to face your truth.”
